Copy Machine Boy
by ABlurInTheWind
Summary: Soulmates are something Valentine doesn't worry about as a vampire. He heals too quickly to see the injury marks that he should mirror from his soulmate's body and with a second chance at Draculaura after four hundred years he has bigger things on his mind. Valentine should know enough about love to know it finds a way, and these cuts showing up on his body prove it. Jackentine.


Let's try this story again.

Soulmates were supposed to be something in myths. For years people, and monsters alike, grew up with tales of princes and princesses finding each other no matter what the odds, and falling love. Soulmates, they were called. These were just stories though. But in the end Fate is a cruel mistress and the hands of the universe dealt out a matching set of cards that only two beings in the entire world could possibly share. Suddenly soulmates were made real.

Studies finding breakthroughs not so much involving the heart or mind, but the body as a whole. It was funny in a sadistic way. You would mirror the injuries of your soulmate, and they yours. The pair would be a match made in pain until they found each other and did their best to protect their soul's other half. Together creating the perfect canvas to mark with teeth and tongue rather than scraps and cuts. Valentine didn't believe in soulmates. How could he? _Soul_ mates required a soul and as a creature of the undead that was something he found himself severely lacking.

Then there was the fact that none would be good enough for him. Hearts were nothing but organs for the trophy case and love was something Valentine enjoyed destroying. Ghouls were naive and desperate; grasping at straws in the hopes of finding their soulmate fast and speeding off into a fairytale romance. All they wanted was a pretty face and sugary words, things that Valentine shaped himself around. Things he was all too happy to provide if it meant getting what he wanted in the end- tears and a new broken heart that shown bright red like dripping blood. Only for it to rust over time before Valentine would replace it with another. The previous shoved into a musty cellar of others just like it.

Draculaura has the biggest heart that Valentine's ever seen, and he can't fathom how he missed her at this small school. She's sweet; lovely and so gullible that Valentine barely has to work a week until her heart is nearly bursting with love, just shy of too big to fit in the frames of his glasses. Everything is planned out and his smile is so rotteningly sweet he thinks he feels his teeth vibrate when he says, "Happy birthday, dahlin'! You have the biggest heart."

That night it would've been his, too, if her family hadn't of fled. Failure isn't something Valentine is used to tasting, and his temper is something he never loses. That night however black claws sprung forth ripping through tile and walls. Hisses poured from his throat and nothing could match the color of his eyes, engulfed by crimson rage. Curses in an ancient tongue poured from his lips in a voice like thunder. Sure, he could look around and see all the other hearts he had collected, but they mocked him. They were not the heart that he wanted, needed, right now. Valentine vows that one way or the next he will have Draculaura's heart.

Valentine doesn't hold a grudge forever, but being a vampire and over a thousand years old means that he's had a lot of practice and experience should he _want_ to. Say for example, four hundred years of slow rage. Of course that never interfered with his heart breaking, his power grew at remarkable rates and with it so did the number of ghouls who fell for him. Other vampires were such easy targets seeing as how they were at a disadvantage when it came to finding their soulmate. The lack of soul on their part and the ability to heal instantly rendered them nearly helpless with clues far and few between. A vampire finding their true soulmate was a rare thing and despite the number of ghouls that Valentine ruined it was never enough. Every time he looked to his trophies one spot glared back at him. Just his luck that four hundred years of being bested would all changed with one phone call.

 **Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Meet**

Something's different about Draculaura's voice but Valentine chalks that up to a long distance phone call, willing to overlook abnormalities that right now. Giddy with the thought of a second chance he wasted no time making the arrangements and securing a set transfer papers. He has no doubt the little vampire will be ecstatic to see him. Rekindle their lost "love". He's right. She runs into a stop sign, subsequently failing her drivers test when she sees him.

Surprisingly, it's not one of the strangest reactions he's ever got. However, it is good for his plans. If she still thinks of him frequently -which he's sure she does, after that little stunt- then he may not have to put in as much effort as he originally thought. Goth, the ghoul's either a dead romantic, or just too desperate. Dead romantic strokes his ego.

Valentine doesn't find her right away when he finally gets away from the throng of ghouls and finally manages to walk into Monster High, but that's good. It works in his favor as everything usually does and gives him enough time to put on an act and slip effortlessly into character. One he's spent the last four hundred years perfecting for Draculaura. If the ghoul knew she would surely feel honored; it's not something he does for just anyone, after all.

Long hair cascades down the length of the petite vampire's back, swaying as she digs through her locker. Valentine couldn't have asked for better timing. He positions himself just so under the stone archway and, "Draculaura."

 _Click._

The mask falls into place seamlessly.

She turns at the sound of her name coming from an unfamiliar voice, confused at first before she sees just who called her name. Lilac eyes glaze as she cradles her chin in her hands, "Valentine!"

It's as good a cue as any, and Valentine begins his carefully crafted cinematic run towards her from across the hall. It's grand, dramatic, cheesy. Just how Valentine knows Draculaura likes it. He measures his steps out so they meet in the exact middle of the hallway blocking the path and drawing attention, good. He looks at her like she's his whole world, like she has miraculously saved him somehow just with her presence alone, and drawls out her name in a soft croon, "Draculaura."

"My Valentine," her fingers fold over the heart on her high cheek bone. She looks at him as though he's the air she breathes, if she breathed air.

He looks down at her and- and she _reeks_. The scent of a Claim wafts from her in waves, slamming into his body and wrapping him in the stench of Soulmate. So, Draculaura had found her other half in his absence and probably didn't even know it judging by her reactions now. How poetic. Valentine had always been able to smell those taken by the Claim, it proved a useful tool when choosing his targets. Somehow in the last four hundred years Draculaura had stumbled across her Soulmate, and remained oblivious. To be Claimed she had to have been intimate with that monster at least once. This did not set well with Valentine, nor does it bode well for his plans.

Weather the ghoul knew or not didn't matter, it was the fact that subconsciously her soul recognized it was taken. Valentine could fill her heart as much as he wished but there was no guarantee that it would ever be or even could be completely full. The heart would be useless to him in the end. Hypnotism may even prove to be to no avail. There was a reason Valentine avoided Claimed partners, it could be dangerous to him. Fate was fickle and cruel and to bring two souls together he did not doubt it would get rid of him to do so. To court Draculaura could very well lead to his demise if he chose to proceed. He could back out now but Valentine, deep down, was a childish monster. He was willing to go to absurd lengths to get what he wanted, and Draculaura's heart was no exception. Soulmates be damned.

"Draculaura," he says her name one more time for effect, before producing a bouquet of roses wish a flourish of his hands

She stares at him and his charming smile, the beginnings of love struck, yet still doesn't take the roses. Inwardly he scowls as he pops them out of existence just as easily as he'd made them. This Claim was already very strong, and if Draculaura already subconsciously refused flowers from other suitors it didn't allow for much potential to Valentine's plans. Even so it does little to deter him. Draculaura is a long awaited conquest and Valentine will have her heart.

The game begins.

 **Chapter 3: Get the Ball Rolling**

Despite Monster High's lack of feeling like a proper school there is an actual curriculum Valentine will have to follow along with a system of school rules and guidelines, which is how he finds himself in the office department. His smile is tight and it's a conscious effort not to drum his fingers on the divider resting between himself and the guidance counselor who is so leisurely creating his class schedule and mumbling some instructions out to him. Valentine responds with some polite gibberish back to her in their quaint little bubble, not listening to her and instead letting his pink eyes roam around the room.

The walls are painted a muted shade of orange that is frankly atrocious in his opinion and totally clashes with his soft pink skin. Sad little potted plants are sprinkled in no particular order here and there with the majority beginning to brown at the leaf tips. Someone clearly has been ignoring their office responsibilities. On the far wall there is a behemoth of a copy machine, so old there's dust on top of dust and creaking in unspeakably ominous ways. Ominous ways for a copy machine anyway. That doesn't stop the machine from putting up a valiant fight though, and Valentine feels the edge of his mouth quirk a little bit as he watches the copier do battle with it's latest unfortunate victim.

The latest victim is a tall boy with gangly legs trying to hide his height through hunched shoulders clad in a bright yellow shirt and snug sweater vest. His blending in is going about as well as his copy machine battle, an admirable effort but a losing battle nevertheless. Valentine quirks an unimpressed eyebrow when the boy rapidly punches some buttons, smacks the machine, and makes no headway in successfully printing his papers. The metaphorical white flag is waved in surrender and the guy seems to accept that he's been bested, turning towards Valentine with his head hung in defeat. His black hair is frosted with blond and while no facial features are really visible Valentine can make out the glint of an eyebrow piercing. A blue bow tie rests immaculately at the bottom of his pale-skinned throat and he slinks past the vampire dejectedly. Valentine's useless heart pulled in sympathy and he opened his mouth to offer his condolences for the hard loss when the counselor smacked his finished schedule down in front of him and promptly used it as a silent demand for him to leave.

Picking up the still warm paper Valentine turned without a word and made his way out of the offices. He checked to see if he could spot the copy machine guy still in the hallway but he wasn't there. Mentally shrugging he let the thought move to the back of his mind. He wasn't here to make friends let alone hunt down a boy he had only gotten a moments entertainment out of. Checking his schedule he located his locker number, combination, and skimmed through his classes and their room numbers. As irritating as it would be day one had to be used as a form of reconnaissance, he needed to see what classes he did and _didn't_ have with Draculaura and furthermore see what kind of monsters she surrounded herself with.

Valentine was only a one man army after all and he had a routine that worked time and time again. Step one: open his goth-damned locker.


End file.
